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Unlike Micah’s shoulder-length, dirty blond hair, Rafe’s was short and dark. The dim lighting made it impossible to tell if it was an incredibly deep brown or black. His perfectly trimmed beard and strong jaw were the exact opposite of her ex’s smooth, pointed face. Tattoos started at his right wrist and disappeared under the sleeve of his T-shirt, the wings of some sort of large bird and part of a wolf visible from where she stood. Micah despised tattoos and had often called the one wrapping around her thigh vulgar and classless.
And Rafe was clearly no stranger to the gym, while her ex had a slender, wiry build.
Shouldn’t she be afraid? Micah hadn’t had any issues manhandling her when he wanted to, and this guy looked like he could snap her in half.
And yet, there wasn’t a trace of fear left in her. Not once she looked into his gray-green eyes. That was the biggest difference of all. He looked stern, strong, intimidating...but not cruel. Not at all cruel. She hadn’t recognized that look in Micah when she first met him. But she sure as hell recognized the lack of it now.
Nell would’ve expected some sort of command by now. Instead, he continued studying her from his spot near the fireplace, his full lips parted slightly, his beautiful eyes brimming with interest. As if he was waiting to see what she would do.
She closed her eyes for one second, two—only long enough to draw a fortifying breath into her lungs. Then she let the straps of her two bags slide down her arm, depositing them on the floor beside her. The door swung shut as she moved across the room, until she was close enough to the fire to feel its heat on her bare legs. And as her new Dom watched in silence, she dropped gracefully to her knees on the hearthrug, hands resting on her spread thighs.
“Master Rafe.” Her voice stuck on the words, but she forced them out anyway. “Please instruct me on how best to serve you.”
CHAPTER4
Rafe
Rafe’s breath caught in his lungs. No one had called him that in a very,verylong time. God, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like.
Damn did it feel good coming from her lips. Especially since Nell was even prettier in person than in her photo, with her dark eyes and hair practically glowing in the firelight. She was taller than he expected, only an inch or two shy of six feet if he had to guess, with legs that went on for days. The edges of a black and blue tattoo were visible on her right thigh, peeking out from the hem of her rose-pink dress. Christ, he wanted to know what it felt like to have those thighs wrapped around his head, squeezing him with their obvious strength.
But Rafe wasn’t even close to ready for that level of address again. Fuck, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to let another woman call him that. Not with how it ended last time.
“I don’t allow anyone without my collar around their neck to call me Master.” He thought he’d sounded sufficiently calm—even gentle, for him at least—but she shrunk in on herself like he had shouted the words in her face. Head down, shoulders hunched, as if she expected blows.
Christ, where was Aiden when he needed him?
But no, he was on his own and he damn well knew it. Freya would have his balls if he tried to foist the girl off on someone else. So he’d have to do the next best thing—channel his inner good guy and figure out WWAD?
Actually, he knew exactly what Aiden would do. He watched it happen last year on Olivia’s first day at the Manor, when the girl started hyperventilating down in the dungeon. Aiden would get down on her level and hold her, whispering calming shit until she was all smiles and sunshine.
Just the idea of it had him grinding his teeth hard enough to make his jaw ache. No way could he pull that off. He was nothing like Aiden.
And, he reminded himself, this girl wasn’t Olivia. Freya had sent her tohim. So he was going to do things his way.
“Nell,” he said, doing his best to sound stern but not angry. Her entire body flinched at the sound of his voice. Holding in a frustrated sigh, he cupped her chin in his hand—not hard enough to hurt, but with enough force that she’d know better than to try pulling away. “I want you to look at me and sit up straight for me.”
Rafe could feel her trembling. It had a small part of him reconsidering the whole hug-her-and-say-sappy-shit plan. But then she slowly unfurled from the ball she’d curled herself into, straightening her spine and lifting her chin. The last thing she did was open her eyes, gazing directly into his.
There was so much pain in those big brown eyes, he almost took a step back. But she deserved better than that. She’d earned it, by being brave enough to come to the Manor, to do as he said no matter how hard it was for her.
So he held her gaze, studying the rings of darker brown in her irises, similar to the rings inside a tree. With that haunted look in her eyes, it was as if each ring represented another terrible memory instead of another year of her life.
“Let’s get one thing perfectly clear from the start.” Rafe’s voice came out a little more gravelly than usual. “You’ll never have to wonder if I’m upset with you. If you do something I don’t like, I’ll ask you to fix it. As long as you do what you’re told, everything will be fine. I’ll never be angry with you or punish you for making an honest mistake or for not being able to read my mind.”
Nell’s brows drew together, as if she didn’t quite understand what he was saying. “But...” She trailed off, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to voice her confusion.
“But?” Rafe prompted.
“But if you don’t punish me for messing up, whatwillyou punish me for? Isn’t punishing me the whole point?”
Fucking hell, Freya was right. That ex of hers really did a number on her. “Dominance and submission isn’t about punishing you for every little mistake you make.” He realized he was stroking her cheek with his thumb. How long had that been going on? Forcing his hand to still, he said, “It’s about mutual satisfaction. About both of us trusting the other to give us what we need.”
The sheer level of bewilderment on her lovely face would’ve been comical if it wasn’t so fucking heart-wrenching. Unable to stop himself, he brushed his thumb along her bottom lip, and she snapped her gaping mouth closed.
“I’m sensing,” Rafe started, releasing her face at last, “you may need a bit of a reeducation in what a good D/s relationship should look like. Let’s see if I can help with that.” Reaching out to her, he stood perfectly still until she tentatively put her hands in his. He pulled her to her feet, leading her away from the fireplace and over to the sofa. “Before we get started, let’s get you out of this dress.”
Grabbing the hem, he went to lift it over her head, expecting her to raise her arms. Instead, the heel of her palm came crashing down onto his wrist, knocking his hand away. A second later, her other hand lashed out toward his face.
